


that one where dean goes out for beer money

by rei_c



Series: The Genderfluid(ity) 'Verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Gambling, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender or Sex Swap, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that one where dean goes out for beer money -- and comes back to a sister</p>
<p>(aka, sometimes dean feels like the lowest of lows but it only takes one look at sam to know that she'd rather be like this than anything else ever)</p>
            </blockquote>





	that one where dean goes out for beer money

He slips the elixir into Sam's beer at dinner and, after they've demolished most of a pizza each, Dean says, "Think I might go out and meet the neighbours." 

Sam, already hunched over his laptop, faint lines of puzzlement etching their way onto his forehead, just snorts. "I know I've said this before, but be careful." Sam looks up, meets Dean's eyes with his own, and for a brief second, Dean thinks he sees Sam's left eye twitch right before both of his eyes water up. Sam blinks, though, and it looks like he's back to normal -- what passes for normal for them, anyway. 

"Always am," Dean replies. Sam's shaking his head but he turns back to the laptop. "I won't be gone for long," Dean says, one hand on the doorknob, other hand holding the jacket slung over one shoulder. "Call me if you need me?" That apparently gets Sam's attention; Sam looks at him again, frowns. "Not that I think you will," Dean adds in a rush. "You just --" and he gestures at his own head, raises an eyebrow. 

"Might crash early," Sam admits. "Staring at the laptop isn't helping."

Dean wavers, torn between going out to try and hustle up some much-needed cash or staying here, taking care of Sam. It might be a genuine headache but it's more likely the elixir running through Sam's veins, changing the arrangement of genes and -- fixing them, Dean's come to believe, fixing them to the way they should have been from conception. 

Sam gives Dean a lopsided smile and Dean pretends not to see the way Sam's thumb is brushing back and forth over the bottom of a book, callused skin catching on each individual page. With the number of times Sam's gotten papercuts from doing the exact same thing, Dean doesn't know how it can still calm his brother down -- but it does, and that's all that matters. 

"Go," Sam says, jerking his head at the door. "Win us some beer money. Just try not to get into any fights this time, okay?" 

"Who, _me_ ," Dean says, pretending offense. 

Sam laughs, shakes his head again. Dean leaves. 

\--

When Dean gets back to the room, Sam's half-asleep, curled up tight in the corner of the bed. Sam's also female. 

This is the second time Dean's used the elixir and the changes -- and similarities -- are still enough to take his breath away. Sam's still tall and lean, more of a runner's build than anything, but she's lost about six inches; as much as Dean loves the huge expanse of his brother's skin, loves to leave his marks all over it, he likes being taller than his sister, likes that he's able to pull her in close, shelter her from the rest of the world. Sam's hair is longer, too; this Sam has about three feet of hair and it's thick, waves tangling easy, little curlicues at the nape of her neck and around her ears that go wild after a hot shower -- or sex. 

Sam opens her eyes, looks at Dean. Her eyes -- they're the same colour, the same shape, pretty much the only thing that doesn't change at all when Sam does, apart from her moles and the way she can look at Dean with sleep-crud stuck in the corners of her eyes and make his heart skip a beat with all the emotion he'll never admit to feeling. 

"C'mere," Sam says, and closes her eyes again. Dean can see the stain from where she's been drooling in her sleep and gets worried. She only does that when she's sleeping off pain. 

Dean follows directions. He strips and slides in next to her, rubs his hand down the line of her spine. 

Sam makes a tiny little noise of contentment that Dean would never ever _ever_ admit to finding more adorable than kittens, and scoots a little closer to him. "Win big?" she asks. 

"Couple hundred," Dean murmurs, same volume as Sam, but her voice is husky from sleep and his comes out as half a growl, more thanks to cigarettes and Jim Beam than the heat of Sam next to him. "Enough to last the month, if we're careful. What happened, sweetheart?" 

"Dunno," she says, turns, tangles her legs in with his, buries her face in Dean's neck. Sam doesn't usually like to sleep this way, so close -- he gets too warm, Dean kicks a little, they always get king-sized beds and Sam wants to sprawl out, take advantage of the room when he spends all day in the Impala. Female Sam did this last time, though, as well; Dean wonders if it's going to be a new habit, them sleeping with Sam burrowing into Dean for comfort, for Dean to hold her tight and close and safe. 

"Went out to get a Coke from the vending machine 'bout an hour after you left," Sam says, breath curling over Dean's collarbone. "Thought the caffeine might help. It was starting by the time I got back to the room. Headache's gone, though." 

Dean presses a kiss to the top of Sam's hair as he does the math in his head. "You should've called, Sam," he tells her, more concern in his voice than rebuke. At least there's no sign of guilt in his voice even though it's eating him up inside. "I would've come back." 

Sam doesn't say anything, not for a while. Dean's nodding off when she whispers, "I know," and falls asleep in his arms.


End file.
